Keeping Faith
by PurpleYin
Summary: Everyone thought Marco's greatgrandma Pacella was crazy, and maybe she was, but he's hoping she was also right. DianaMarco.


Spoilers: Season 1 only. 

Warning: Family character death

A/N: Betaread by Fanwoman.

* * *

His great-grandma used to tell him he'd be happy, that he is blessed; the god and goddess are watching over him, Dianus and _Diana_. Sometimes, he wonders if his great-grandma could see into the future. He knows it's just a name, one given countless centuries ago to yet another goddess in a pantheon, but it was the way his great-grandmother had stressed it as she clasped his head in her hands the last time she'd seen him. Her eyes had bulged a little with the stress of doing so. She'd seemed just as surprised as him that she had done that, but she'd said it firmly, one more time, as she held him close to be sure he'd heard.

"You will meet her. You will love her! **Diana**." And with a stout nod, she had let go.

So often in his childhood, she had rambled on in Italian about what most relatives considered superstitious nonsense, but he'd always listened carefully, if just to make her happy because of the attention. Only more recently had he recalled what she'd said. Standing solemnly at her grave in a borrowed black suit, her talks with him had replayed relentlessly in his mind. Around him, several aunts and one of his sisters had wept with the emotion, but he'd felt oddly calm, if not detached. Her words had stood out in his mind, but he'd been unable to fully understand what she'd meant, what relevance the emphasis might have had. With some effort, he'd focused on the words of the priest…

The day had been nice, despite the occasion, and luckily there'd been no rain during the ceremony. The gathering afterwards had been just as emotional but more of a celebration of her long life than the angsty graveside vigil, when they'd watched her body be committed to the earth. Many of the men were taking advantage of the food - and alcohol - toasting in her honour. As one of the few people who'd paid serious attention to her for many years, even right up until weeks before her sudden death, he'd felt lost. He had wanted to share his memories of what she had told him, but he'd rather doubted anyone would have wanted to hear about what they considered the ramblings of a confused old woman. She had been ninety-six, quite possibly losing her mind, yes, but he'd still had faith in her. He'd trusted her, believed it when she'd told him he'd meet his own Diana someday soon, someone strong and brave and true who would never the less need him. She'd been particularly emphatic that he'd have to help her, no matter what difficulties, through much adversity. Her exact last words to him had been, "You MUST!" Confused by it all, he'd just stood there. Then his grandmother had come over and shushed her and made a face at him for overexciting her mother.

He'd walked home from the wake, a conscious choice to take his time to mull over the recent events. His life hadn't been changed much by her death, not in everyday terms, but there had been something missing with her passing – a link severed that he couldn't account for because he didn't know what she connected him to, what exactly it had been she'd shown him. Halfway home, the heavens had opened up and poured down on him, as if literally drowning his sorrow. He hadn't been able to cry, but the sky had done it for him.

Five weeks later, he'd met **her** – suited and booted in all her glory. She had exuded power, which had even been reflected in her combination of red, black and white clothes. Quite simply, her strength had come across the moment she stepped into the room and looked around without hesitation; everything else had only added to that confidence and professionalism. To his amusement, and some amount of terror, too, she'd focused on him. She hadn't seemed at all surprised when Brady awkwardly directed her towards him. She'd had a definite eye for seeking out who she wanted, and either she'd known who he was before she'd come or it had been purely personal acumen. He'd wanted to believe she'd felt the attraction, the same as he had, but he'd known that could be a foolish presumption to work on.

With one hand extended firmly, she'd introduced herself as Diana Skouris, causing a sudden recollection - and connection - of past and present. Even before he'd heard her name, he'd been more than taken with her; it had just sealed the deal, so to speak.

In that moment, he'd briefly considered mentioning that his great-grandmother had told him he'd meet his own personal goddess. While it'd be a strange pick up line, who _wouldn't_ want to be compared to a goddess? But, really, he had enough cheesy lines to last a lifetime. As one of the more obscure ones, not explaining odd things, like his relatives' eccentric beliefs, had been the better choice. Besides, it had seemed obvious she was a critical, logic-oriented person, disinclined to be amused by something as unscientific as foresight. He'd decided against it and had tried to be charming in his own way.

He'd accepted her hand and kissed it gentlemanly, rather than shaking it. Now_that_ had caused a reaction - a slightly unnerved smile. At least it had been a memorable introduction, and he'd soon discovered how much fun it was to battle wits with her, attempting to rise to her level, be it professionally or a matter of banter between them.

Making her blush is something he has yet to achieve, but neither of them leaves each other's company without some sort of satisfaction. He rather hopes he challenges her as much as she does him. It's likely few people can boast that, and certainly, no one else can lay claim to intriguing her in quite the same way, or so he likes to think. After all, she keeps coming back, even when she has no definite need to discuss things with him. She seeks out his opinion on theories, uses him as a sounding board. He has been deemed worthy of her attention, and it gives him faith to work hard at getting to know this difficult to befriend woman.

Apart from the importance of faith, the other thing his great-grandmother had, in all her wisdom, taught him was that for everything you do there is a reaction, like the ripples in the pond, like with the 4400. But deeper than that, if you're kind and caring, someday it will pay off. That's why he can wait. He knows good things take time, and he trusts that this will all turn out great for him, eventually. There will be something more between them some day; it doesn't have to be today. When he reaches that future time, it'll be more than just a nice surprise – it'll be years paying off. Of course, he's hoping it won't take that long before she notices him properly.

He's right under her nose; she just has to want to see, to be looking around, questioning, searching... **finding**. And he'll be right there, trusting in her to come to him, trusting that he's doing the right thing by simply being around to be found. Maybe it's a crazy plan - and he can blame his great-grandmother's influence for that - but if she was right, all of the time he's spent will seem like nothing compared to what happiness it brings him. Luckily, he's already got the benefit of that, and for all the pains he goes through now, they're cancelled out by each and every tiny speck of joy his interactions with Diana bring him. He wants to believe his great-grandmother, and he'll risk her being wrong because he wants so much for it to be true. To be honest, he's never believed in fate, apart from the one he makes himself, but maybe she always knew that – all that was needed was for him to be willing to believe, and it didn't have to be in her.


End file.
